


Hair Metal

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-11
Updated: 2009-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:24:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going 25 years back in time, because Pickles wants to go to a 1984 Mötley Crüe concert.  Again, because he was too high to remember it at the time.<br/>And since I’ve never met Mötley Crüe and am too lazy to find interviews and study, I’ve made up how they speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair Metal

**Author's Note:**

> Conversation that inspired this fic:
> 
> “Skwisgaar gives up and decides to fall asleep on the vinyls, since he has nothing better to do.”  
> "Oh gods no, people wit de bigger hairs! Must takes nap...."  
> “Or maybe it's a defense mechanism. Skwisgaar is threatened by the large plumage of hair metal bands and thusly plays dead whenever they are around.”  
> ...That might just be the best up-and-coming fanfic ever. XD

Pickles wanted to talk to them about something, he was pretty excited. That alone was weird enough to make them pay attention.  
“Look, here’s tha thing. I went to this Mötley Crüe concert back in ‘84, but I was so high I can’t remember it. I wanna go again, so we’re all gonna go back in time fer it.”  
“Oh wowee Pickle, you gots a time machine?”  
“Nah, I got these magic pills. You only git four hours, but that’s good enough.”  
Skwisgaar objected, “I don’t wants to go. Goes without me.”  
“How can ya _naught_ wanna go? That shit rawks!”  
“Don’t like dat kind of music anyways.”  
“Dude, it’s metal. You _play_ metal.”  
Nathan intervened. “You’re going with us and that’s final!”  
Skwisgaar pouted, but quit objecting.

Strangely bouncy Pickles was very excited. “Dude, this is gonna rawk! I can prob’ly get us backstage even.”  
“Oh noes Pickle, you can’t sees yourself there! It makes paradoxes and ruins everything!”  
“Don’t worry about it, I was so high that night I can’t remember anythin’ anyway. Naught gonna hurt anythin’. ‘Sides, I kinda want to hang out with me.”  
“Sho let’sh go then, if we’re going to do thish.”  
“Come ons then Pickle, what is we waitings for?”  
Pickles looked around at them with a grin, which quickly changed to horror.

“Oh gawd, we can’t go lookin’ like this!”  
“Pfft. So we will wears disguises?”  
“Naw, jest diff’rent clothes an’ stuff. I’ll even do your hair an’ makeup for ya.”  
“Yous is not touching my hairs, and I can does my own damn makeups.”  
“There’sh no way you’re putting _makeup_ on me. Schrew you!”  
“Uh-uh, me either. No way. Or big hair. Ugh.”  
“You cans does me Pickle, I don’t minds.”  
Pickles considered. “Let’s go ta my room, I gat the most stuff fer this prob’ly. And so they all followed him.

Pickles dug around in a drawer and pulled out a handful of bright orange and green, and a pair of jeans that looked like they’d been run over with a lawnmower. Repeatedly. “Gawd, I hope I can still git inta these pants.” He changed, pulling on bright orange spandex leggings and squirming into the jeans. They were horribly tight, but they always had been, and he did manage to get them buttoned. A neon green belly shirt completed his outfit.  
They were all staring at him in horror.  
This was _so_ not metal. And definitely not brutal.

Pickles ignored their critical looks, “Toki, Skwisgaar, com’ere. I’ve prab’ly gat some old stuff that’ll fit ya.” He dug around some more, fishing out what he wanted and tossing it to them. “Sorry Blondie, yer too tall for any of my pants. Hava shirt.”  
Skwisgaar briefly regarded the neon pink thing with disgust before dropping it as if it had bitten him.  
Toki looked at what he was holding in confusion. “You forgets to give me pants, Pickle.”  
“Heh. Those _are_ pants kid, put ‘em on.”  
Toki shrugged, changing into the leopard print spandex pants and gold mesh tank top he had been given. “Wowee, this feels funny.”  
They stared at him. Those clothes on that body... it was quite a sight.  
“Dayum, Toki! Jest wait ‘till we do your hair an’ makeup, yer gonna be so hawt!”

Nathan was frowning at them. “Uh, what should I wear?”  
Pickles studied him. He was too big to pull off the glam look, so what to do?  
“Ya gat some old jeans wit holes in ‘em?” Nathan nodded. “Go git ‘em. An’ do ya have any other color shirts? Okay, bring one ya don’t mind me cuttin’ up.”  
Nathan went to get the stuff, returning shortly. He handed Pickles an old red t-shirt.  
Grabbing some scissors, Pickles cut out the neck, sleeves, and bottom hem, then tossed it back. Nathan changed.  
Great, now he looked like somebody’s unemployed gardener. Yep, they were going to have to convince him to at least wear a little makeup.

Skwisgaar had quietly left to dig through his closet. Why did he have so many damn clothes when he pretty much always wore the same sort of thing? Surely he had something tight and sexy in there, but what? It took a lot of pawing around, but at last he sound what he wanted. He dug out a pair of tight, extremely low cut black pants, and a thin, silvery tank top. The shirt had probably been left by some groupie, he really couldn’t remember, but it looked like it would fit him. No way was he going to wear that pink thing Pickles had offered him. He changed, admiring himself in the mirror. He would never he dress like this normally, but he looked damn good in it.  
He went back to see how it was going.

They didn’t pay much attention when he came back, which kind of pissed him off. He looked way better than they did, after all.  
Murderface hadn’t changed, and clearly had no intention of even considering doing so. Well, his usual look didn’t really fit any real fashion era anyway, it would probably be fine. A little makeup wouldn’t kill him though. Well, _putting_ makeup on him very well might make him kill someone else, so it was probably best to just leave him alone.

Pickles looked in the mirror, regarding his hair with a sigh. “Can’t just take dreads out.” He tied on a bandana, that would have to do. Then he leaned close and began expertly applying his makeup.  
The finished effect was freakishly beautiful, in a mildly disturbing way. “Com’ere Toki, let me do ya.”  
Toki sat on the toilet lid, trying not to giggle as Pickles worked, because it feels really funny when somebody’s putting makeup on you.  
Pickles then teased up his hair, going heavy with the hair spray to make sure it stayed.  
The results were nearly unrecognizable, although undeniably sexy.

Skwisgaar brushed off Pickles and did his own makeup, going with a similar style. He still absolutely refused to abuse his hair like that though. “Nathans, I think yous should at least wears de eyeliners. Comes here.”  
“Uh, I don’t know about that Skwisgaar.”  
“Thinks of it as corpse paints, onlys not so much of its.”  
“Oh. Uh, okay then.” That didn’t sound so bad. He didn’t want to look like those three, but corpse paint was brutal. He sat down and let Skwisgaar work. 

Since Nathan couldn’t see what he was doing and therefore wouldn’t object, he went a bit beyond just eyeliner.  
Pickles couldn’t resist, “Come on Nat’an, let me fluff yer hair, just a little? Nathan responded as usual when overwhelmed, giving in. Pickles went to work, but true to his word, went light on the teasing.  
When they were done, Nathan looked... well, still like Nathan, mostly. A fluffier version with some makeup, but still unmistakably Nathan. But it would have to do.  
Murderface was looking around at them all like they’d gone insane. Skwisgaar patted the toilet seat, determined to at least make an attempt. “Comes on Murderfaces, lets me puts a little bits on yous too.”  
“Schrew you Shwisgaar, I’m not wearing that schit.”  
Skwisgaar wisely chose not to push the issue.

Well, they were all dressed up to go to 1984.  
Pickles grinned, looking around at them all. “Okie then, I guess all we’re ready.” He handed out the pills. “Okie, when I count to three... one... two... three!”  
They all swallowed the pills.  
Everything started spinning, and it all went dark.

****

The noise came like a freight train, distant, but rushing toward them. They opened their eyes and they were in the crowd.  
“Dorothy, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”  
“I’m not Dorothy, I’m Toki.”  
“Naw, that’s from... never mind, naught important. Fuck yeah, we’re here!”  
Oddly enough, no one had seemed to notice five men basically appearing out of thin air. But all attention was focused on the stage, and the crowd was pretty drunk, among other things. They just kind of blended right in.

Well no point in being sober, so Nathan went to get beer. He came back shortly, empty handed, pissed off, and disapointed.  
“Pickles! They wouldn’t take my money! They said it’s fake! Does money, um, look different now or something?”  
“Oh. Shit yeah, I didn’t even think about thet. Everybody grab yer wallets, let’s see if we’ve gat any old money we can use.”  
They had $3 between them, in old money. Even at the prices back then (now), that wouldn’t buy much beer. But Pickles had an idea. “I know, let’s find me. I’ll buy us beer!”  
So off they went, in search of Pickles former self. He did remember where his seat had been (because he’d kept the ticket stub), so they headed for it, hoping he hadn't yet wandered off.  
He hadn’t.

They’d all seen the “Where are They Now?” on Snakes N Barrels, so they knew what Pickles had looked like back then. Still, seeing him there in front of then, _younger_ than any of them, was just really weird.  
Pickles greeted him, “Hey, we’ve come from 2009. They won’t let us buy beer because tha fuckin’ government will change tha way money looks in about twenty years an’ they think it’s fake.”  
84Pickles nodded, apparently deciding to write this off as a hallucination. A hallucination that needed beer money. “So Snakes N Barrels isn’t gonna last?”  
09Pickles chuckled softly, “Naw, but that’s okay, we’re bigger than they ever were.”  
He considered them. “Heh, twenty-five years huh? I still look pretty good, I guess. Don’t know why the fuck I’d ever do thet to my hair though.” He patted his glorious wild mane.  
“You’ll figure it out eventually kid, I don’t wanna ruin it fer ya.”

84Pickles eyed them curiously before turning back to himself. “Well, aren’t ya gonna introduce me ta my future band?”  
09Pickles laughed. “Oh yeah, sahrry. We’re Dethklawk now. This is Nat’an, he’s the singer. Blondie is Skwisgaar, the fastest guitarist alive. That’s Toki, he’s the rhythm, and that’s Murderface the bassist. Oh yah, and I’m jest a drummer now.”  
Skwisgaar was acting weird now, and wouldn’t even look directly at 84Pickles, who didn’t seem to care.  
84Pickles nodded to them all, then turned to Toki. “Ya know, I’ve gat those same pants. Ya look a lot better in ‘em though, damnit.”  
“Sorries, Pickle told me to wears them. They’s your pants.”  
84Pickles was still eyeing Toki’s body. “Maybe I should start workin’ out or sahmthin’. Hey, do I ever git in that kinda shape?”  
09Pickles shook his head, “Nah, we’re too lazy. But don’t worry ‘bout it.”  
“Okie, well here ya go.” He handed over a wad of cash. Now they could drink!

They turned their attention back too the concert, it was a good show. Lots of energy in to room. They drank a lot of beer and shared a couple joints. 84Pickles also took a handful of some kind of pills, but they passed on those. That was clearly the “why Pickles couldn’t remember this day” part, and this was so strange that they all definitely wanted to remember it.  
Despite drinking heavier than usual, Skwisgaar still seemed uncomfortable. They didn’t know why, so they just ignored him.  
They hadn’t been able to hang out unknown in a crowd like this in years, and it was nice, for a change. They could just be “regular jagoffs” and relax.

When it was over, they headed for backstage. As predicted, 84Pickles got them in with no problems. Skwisgaar was lagging behind, trying to hang back.  
Then it was time to meet the band. As they approached, Skwisgaar suddenly sank to the floor and just lay there. 09Pickles looked at him curiously, “What the fuck, Skwisgaar? Nat’an, is he dead or somethin’?”  
Nathan nudged him with his boot. “Uh, I don’t think so.”  
84Pickles didn’t really care about that guy anyway. “Eh, leave him. He’ll be alreet, they’ve gat good security.”  
Toki was kind of worried, but wasn’t about to be left behind just because Skwisgaar was being weird. He followed the others.

Mick was fiddling around with his guitar. “Man, I wish somebody would challenge me sometimes, I feel like I could be better. Hey Pickles, I’ve heard you play, you’re pretty good. Wanna play with me a little?”  
84Pickles shook his head, “Nah, I’m way too high. Sahrry.”  
09Pickles pointed to Toki, “Play with him, he’s better anyway.”  
Mick tilted his head questioningly, and Toki shrugged, then nodded. Why not?  
Toki took the offered guitar, and they started running scales and riffs. Toki was better, but not the kind of dick that would rub it in. Besides, it was _fun_ to play with someone who didn’t constantly insult him, for a change.  
Nikki decided to join in, and they jammed for a bit.

09Pickles and Tommy Lee were talking drums. Well it started off that way anyhow, but the guy had an ego even bigger then Skwisgaar’s, if that was even possible. Pickles didn’t care enough to play ego wars, so he want back to drinking with Nathan and Murderface, who were just chilling with the assorted backstage people. They all felt kind of old.  
They mostly watched Toki and 84Pickles interacting with the band, and soaked up the glamor of backstage 1984.  
Things sure had changed a lot in the last twenty-five years, and not all for the better.  
It occurred to them that maybe they better go check on Skwisgaar. The Mötley boys trailed along with their new buddies.

As they all walked back into the room, Skwisgaar, who had been talking to some chicks, immediately sank to the floor again. The chicks looked at him strangely, then ran to the “real” musicians they had been waiting to see.  
Toki walked over and kicked Skwisgaar gently. “Gets up you dildos.” There was no response.  
Vince walked over to them. “What’s wrong with your friend? Chicks faint around us sometimes, but not the dudes. Is he gay or something?”  
“Noes, I think maybes it’s your hairs. He is maybe intimidated by your hairs.”  
“But your hair is just like ours, so why isn’t he scared of you?”  
“Skwisgaar, scareds of me? That’s not goings to happens. He thinks I’s just dildos anyway.”  
“You know, I’m not even going to try to figure out what you mean by that.”  
They walked back to the others.

09Pickles checked a groupie’s watch. “Shit, we’ve only gat an hour left.” They didn’t need to disappear in front of everyone. But, you know, an hour is still a pretty long time. No need to stop the party yet.  
Confused Toki was keeping an eye on Skwisgaar, who was still laying on the floor. Every now and then he’d open one eye, checking, and then go right back to playing dead. The others had decided to just ignore him, it was easier, but Toki still worried.  
People were just stepping over him, apparently bodies on the floor were a common occurrence. Skwisgaar continued to play dead, even when some drunken chick stumbling over him accidently stepped on his hair.  
That had to hurt.

After a while, 09Pickles checked another watch. “Dude, we’d better go find a good place ta disappear. Time’s almost up.”  
Oh shit, already? Okay, they needed to “revive” Skwisgaar, because nobody wanted to carry his lanky ass. But how?  
Toki approached his new friends. “I hates to has to ask you this, but can you goes to the udder room? I thinks when your hairs is further away, he will gets up.”  
They were agreeable to this plan, and wandered off, most of the other people trailing along behind them.  
84Pickles gave himself a big hug, which was returned. He hugged Toki as well, and then followed the last of the people through the door. _He_ wasn’t going anywhere, and the night was young.

Now they were alone. Well that was convenient, they didn’t have to go find a place after all. Skwisgaar cracked an eye, and seeing that they were alone, sat up.  
“Dude, seriously, what tha fuck is yer problem?”  
Skwisgaar gave a little shudder. “De hairs... dey is too bigs... don’t wants to talk about its.”  
They all looked at him like he was crazy.  
“Uh, how much time Pickles?”  
“Only a minute or so. Wait fer it.”  
Soon there was another spinning sensation, and everything went black again.

****

There was no dramatic noise fade-in this time, because there was no noise. They found themselves lying on the floor in Pickles’s room, back at Mordhaus.  
Pickles sat up quickly, and promptly threw up. “Oh dude, don’t drink an’ time travel, I guess. Sit up slowly, ya might be alreet.”  
They did, and nobody else puked, although Toki looked like it wasn’t out of the question yet.  
What if... what if it was all just the drug? What if they didn’t _really_ go back to 1984? 

Charles happened by. “Good lord, why are you all dressed like that? And where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all for hours, did you somehow forget you have an appearance today?”  
Not bothering to answer, they looked at each other. If Charles said they’d been missing, then it must have really happened?  
Didn’t it?


End file.
